Flawed Perfection
by WhiteFiree
Summary: The dead have risen and the only thing left to do is stick together, to survive. This new world can bring people together, or tear them apart, and Holly only wants to keep those she loves safe. With a partner like Daryl Dixon, the chances of making it out alive are as good as they can get. He's stubborn and anything but perfect, but to Holly, perfection is overrated anyway.
1. Imperfections

**Title:** Flawed Perfection

**Pairing:** DarylXOFC  
-Side Pairings: BethXOMC & Canon Pairings that don't interfere

**Rating:** M for language, adult themes/situations, violence/fighting (Ha, Walkers!), and my own paranoia.

**A/N:** Hello! This is my first ever Walking Dead FanFic, and I'm currently unsure of rather or not I'll be keeping this as a short story with a few chapters or a lengthy one. I've chosen Daryl to pair off with an OFC, so if that isn't to the favor of you, now would be a good time to turn back! Obviously there will be some A/U-ness with the addition of characters to the story we all know and love. I'll try to portray Daryl to the best of my ability, but there might be some OOC-ness. Please don't set your Walkers on me!

Support for the story is greatly welcomed in all its forms, aside from story hating. Please keep that to yourself, it attracts Walkers.  
And you know Daryl's opinion on those :)

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, its characters, or anything else associated with the series in all its forms. I simply own my OC's and my personal additions to supplement the canon happenings. So my plot bunnies ;)**_

* * *

_**~Chapter One~**_  
_**Imperfections**_

* * *

His imperfections are what make him perfect.

It's ironic in its own way, how a man with so many flaws and a dark past that could haunt even the most well-adjusted person can end up being that one person that you see shining through the darkness that envelopes your world. That was him, without a doubt. You didn't have to be a genius to see that the man was scarred on the inside _and_ outside, it was more obvious than he thought. But still, there was always something drawing me to him from the very first day I met him. The group had been the saving grace of my brother and myself, taking us in when they really didn't have to, when they didn't know a single thing about us.

This new world was a brutally savage one and it had an all new scope of rules set forth by the survivalist society that we shared with the dead who roamed the earth.

No, they didn't have to take us in.

_But they_ _did_.

We fell into the new little family easily, more than happy to help out and pull our own weight. Chase started on runs and became Shane's second in command while I helped with the women's work, not really minding all that much that we'd been thrown back into the fifties. Andrea complained about it all the damn time but the way I saw it, there was more time for lying about to tan or swim. Amy and I always giggled about how irate her sister would become over something as simple as the men's laundry.

And then I met _him_.

His stubborn silence and abrasive attitude only served to draw my curiosity instead of ward me off, much to both his brother's and my amusement. I was greeted with "Th' hell ya want?" more times than I can _count_, but I still kept coming. First all that I was met with was silence, then the occasional few words or question before it slowly morphed into full sentences. While I wouldn't say we were having in depth conversations by any means, we were gaining ground. Getting comfortable.

When his brother came out of the lengthy drug haze he'd been wallowing in and took note of my presence, _that's_ when he really made changes.

It was like he didn't want to be around too much, but wasn't willing to chance leaving me in the older Dixon's company at the same time. I wasn't all that worried about Merle though. Don't get me wrong, the man was full of the sleaziest comments I'd ever heard in my entire life and could make you feel dirtier than a nun in a whorehouse, but it was different between us.

Like he _knew_.

And then the game of watching began.

Sometimes I'd catch him watching me, other times he'd catch me doing the same to him. It traded off, back and forth, leaving us both with a slight blush when we were caught red-handed in a staring trance for too long.

His body was something I had always fantasized about, though had never had the pleasure of exploring.

Rough with a life's worth of hard labor and hunting, yet gentle and smooth in just the right degrees and places. He wasn't like the overly soft and pampered men that had been shoved down my throat since I was sixteen. No he was all rough edges, angular lines and thick muscle. My favorite pastime became hiding out behind my sunglasses to watch him work; the muscles of his arms rippling and clenching as he gutted and cleaned a kill for our dinner, how they strained under the heavy weight of a buck when he took one down and hoisted it above his shoulders to haul back to camp, or the smooth flex in them as he sharpened knives, made arrows, or cleaned his weapon. It was enough to make my mouth water as I swallowed convulsively and clenched my thighs together in an attempt to ease the need that settled in the pit of my stomach, _demanding_ attention. The smell of him was something woodsy, primal and _all_ him. No other man I'd been around in my entire life smelt the way he did, like something from deep within the woods in the crisp air of fall mixed with a musk made up of hard work and anything else you could think of to represent masculinity.

He was fucking _intoxicating_.

Between it all, my brain literally seemed to wipe itself of any thought when he initially made his presence known.

His physicality and scent weren't the _only_ things I picked up on from behind those dark shades though.

The discomfort he felt when he was surrounded by people too closely, constantly flinching away from the touch of others, was the first sign I picked up on that told the secrets of the darkened childhood I've come to know about. Initially I couldn't get too close within arm's distance of him without seeing the telltale sign of his muscles stiffening, even if he didn't let himself jerk back and away. Over time though, through the weeks as they drug on, we worked through that. I didn't take advantage of the allowance though, and saved my touches for when I couldn't starve off the desire for him any longer.

For when I _needed_ it, even if it was more of a tease than a taste.

I picked up on his habits, the different things that make him tick.

Like how he squints a little when he's thinking something over so forcefully it's like his eyes narrow, demanding an answer. The way he brings his thumb up to his mouth to bite at the skin there when he's anxious or amped up for something in place of brushing his hands through his hair like I do, though he does do that from time to time. My favorite by far is the way the man rolls his tongue out over his bottom lip unconsciously all the time, wetting the tender skin there _and_ me at the same time when my mind flashes to things unwarranted. He thinks long and hard before he opens his mouth for the most part, unless you piss him off or threatened something he's actually let himself care about. Then he'll spout off with strings of curses or let loose with a flying fist, or arrow, instead.

But he's a good man, through and through, rather _he_ believes it or not.

The knowledge was something I came to know before anyone else in the group did.

It made for a lot of sideways glances and whispered words initially when they believed him to be only some backwoods hick instead of the leader I saw inside of him the moment I met him. People were uncomfortable with the age difference, while it meant nothing to me at all. They didn't believe someone in her early twenties should be spending so much time with a gruff thirty-something year old man. But age is only a number, not a sign of maturity, stability or the potent protectiveness that is the man's nature. A man could be well into his fifties and completely unable to provide any of those things, or he could be sixteen and have it all. So ten or twelve years separation in age made no difference to me; the southerner is safer than most men left on the planet, even from _before_ the outbreak.

Mixing him with the group got off to a rocky start but in the end, they became his family.

And if _anyone_ would be willing to risk his life for family, it was Daryl Dixon.

That's why I was so ungodly pissed when I was still ordered to bed rest after the strange woman showed up on our turf, claiming that a man a few miles away was holding Glenn and Maggie prisoner and torturing them.

The group reacted immediately, quickly assembling a search and rescue team that didn't include me, despite my protestations. I demanded to go, the stray bullet from T-Dog in the walker attack set forth on us by the rogue convict had _only_ grazed me and the stitches were _only_ a precaution. It certainly wasn't something that should keep me from going out to rescue our people.

_Or_ from having Daryl's back like I had so many times before.

But when the redneck asked Hershel his honest opinion and the knowledgeable veterinarian said I still needed rest to counter infection, that was the end of it.

Daryl wouldn't listen to anything else I said, constantly quoting Hershel as his rebuttal to everything I threw at him. Fear of losing him settled in place of the anger as I watched him get ready, still holding in everything that I hadn't said to him since the day I realized it when I'd been torn from his side along with Glenn in the city during our search for Merle.

I stared straight at him, not even trying to hide the fact that I was watching his every move.

He knew too, if he couldn't _feel_ it he certainly _saw_ it from the corner of his eye when they darted my way repeatedly, slightly hidden by his hair that was growing longer. We were still engaged in a debate of rather or not I was going to cut it, I was still on the fence as to which style I liked best. It had grown darker in the winter, no longer bleached by the heated sun from living out in the open.

I fought with myself the entire time as I followed him out, never far from his side, until he stopped at the passenger side door to the car.

I wanted to tell him, to _show_ him what he was to me, even though the fear of losing the part I had of him already was so intense that it was palpable. We had become an untitled duo, relying on each other first out of everyone else. Telling each other the truth about whatever there was to consider or talk about. The last thing I wanted to do was overcrowd him with something he wouldn't reciprocate, but if his watching me like I watched him was any sort of indication he felt the same...

He should've known, it _had_ to be obvious, but I still wanted to make it plain.

In the end I couldn't get my words through the lump that was growing thick in my throat as my eyes stung with tears and my heart pounded an unsteady rhythm in my chest. He squinted at me, the same sign that he was thinking just as hard as I was in the silence. The squint lessened as he stared back into my eyes and he took a quick step forward, brushing his lips over my forehead in the most fleeting and simplest of gestures.

But it said _everything_ he couldn't.

That's why when he didn't come back, I lost it.

The scream that tore through my chest and throat was one that could've woken the dead had they not already been up and walking about. If anything, it was definitely going to call them in for a mile's radius. I fought with Rick, cursing him for leaving behind the one man who had _never_ questioned his leadership or plans even when they were farfetched or faulty. The man who had beaten and interrogated for him when _he_ couldn't, who had done what was necessary when _he_ couldn't step up, who had been there for his own newborn daughter when _he'd_ been off hacking walkers to bits in the tombs.

All because he wanted his brother back.

The brother that Rick was responsible for having _left _in the first place.

The brother that they all just _expected_ Daryl to get over even though he was flesh and blood, while still expecting him to go out and risk his life for their own.

_To what end?_

And to top it off they'd brought back the same damn chick who deserted them the first go round, probably the reason that Daryl had been captured.

But no Merle.

The guy was a _dick_, there was no doubt about that. But to turn Merle away knowing that Daryl would leave was preposterous, like casting one of the Gods from Mount Olympus. The group would falter and fall without the hunter, no longer as capable as they had been before. If the ex-deputy was counting on _me_ to take up my bow and supply his food for the dinner table after tossing the southerner aside, he had another thing coming.

And I let him know it, calling him every name under the sun and then some without a single care of what anyone else in the prison thought.

I scratched and clawed as Chase held me up in the air and off the fallen leader I'd knocked to the ground, my nails making my brother's blood run with my own as my stitches ripped and popped. It was Glenn's backhand and screaming rant about Merle that shut me up finally, but not because of my brother's threat to kill him, his words, or the faint throb in my cheek.

It was because I had decided.

I was _leaving_.

Daryl had taught me to track, and while I wasn't anything compared to him I didn't doubt that I'd be able to find him if I got a move on. I let myself fall limp in Chase's arms so he'd loosen them, using the opportunity to wrench myself free from his grasp and storm from the lounge area we'd turned into a common area. Seclusion was best at this point and was my immediate desire as I shut myself away in my cell that I'd semi-abandon every night to sleep near Daryl. The plan formulated quickly in my mind and left me itching to act on it earlier than possible. I'd pack in the middle of the night and leave in the morning early, slipping out of the gates through the hole we'd initially cut and wired shut so no one would notice.

Leaving Chase would be the hardest thing I'd ever had to do.

But he had a life with the group, one I wasn't willing to deprive him of. Beth had been a great thing for him, sucking him out of the pit of ugliness he'd sunken into as we lost member after member. The next hours were spent writing out letters that they would find, one for each and one for Daryl if he came back before I found him…and I didn't.

The thought made my stomach churn and flip in uneasiness, fear taking hold once more.

But I didn't back down.

My sleep was fitful though, and riddled with nightmares that continuously had me waking up in screams. They were all the same; Daryl's death and his walker form stumbling back to the prison. It happened repeatedly and Hershel finally made the choice to dose me with a sedative in hopes that it'd ease my dreams. It didn't though; instead I was perpetually stuck inside the nightmares, living them over and over until I _finally_ woke with a gasp.

To find that I had missed my window to leave.

That's how I found myself on personal assistant duty with Hershel as everyone slowly lost their _damn_ minds.

Rick was off traipsing around the outside gates chasing who knows what, Glenn was on some ridiculous run to prove himself, and Maggie was holed up in her cell. The older man had decided to find a way to make Rick come inside, so here I was, listening to Hershel coaxing the man who was babbling on almost incoherently to come back inside the prison while I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned through the chain-link at him.

I was still damn pissed.

"Rick, come on in." Hershel said, his tone commanding but gentle. "It's not safe out here."

He gazed at us blankly before shaking his head and backing away. "I can't. I can't."

"Oh for _Christ_ sakes!"

My heaving sigh was audible as I tore through the wired hole, opening it just wide enough so that I could slide through despite Hershel's protests. I couldn't even _begin_ to fathom the reasons I was retrieving the raving lunatic since he'd hung Daryl out to dry, but I went forth anyway. I had just finished crossing the bridge, my hand reaching forward to latch onto his sleeve at his elbow so I could drag his ass back, when the distinctive sound of a bullet tearing through air pricked my ears. I whipped around, easily spotting the frantic movements back inside the courtyard of the prison where Chase was yelling.

_"_What the-" I murmured.

The sharp sting of the second bullet in my life to graze my exposed skin sent waves of pain through my body and I clutched my side, only to see my hand come back red and bloody. Rick's wide eyes met mine before gunfire rained down on us and he shoved me forward, pushing me back across the bridge and down into the marshy grass for cover. He landed on me heavily, hovering his body over mine in protection as I gasped to replace the oxygen he'd forced from my lungs with the extreme impact. I choked on my words and questions, still not understanding the situation we were in even as more bullets zipped through the air, mowing down grass and weeds all around us.

"The _fuck_?" I hissed, echoing Daryl's common expression when I could breathe again.

"Don't know!" Rick hissed back, pressing me down into the dirt further at his side.

I was surprised to feel him curl his body around mine in an attempt to cover me from all angles as I twisted, taking in what I could from where we laid. The gunfire was thundering, coming from all around us as I picked out at least three different points of origin. Shouts and screams came from the prison and I grit my teeth when Chase's voice rose above them, calling for me. I looked into the previously hazy blue eyes of Rick that were now crystal clear in silent question but he shook his head adamantly, pressing a finger to his lips.

"_HOLLY_!" Chase continued yelling between fire from up the hill. "_Dammit_ Holly, ANSWER ME!"

I clenched my teeth tighter, struggling under Rick's insistent grip so that I could free the automatic rifle from where it cut painfully into my back. There would no doubt be bruising later after Rick had landed on me, forcing the weapon to indent my skin.

"_Move_ Rick!" I hissed. "We've got to hit these assholes back!"

He gazed at me for a moment before finally scrambling to the side, freeing me to sit up some and let loose with a rain of hellfire toward the shooter in the woods. Hope spread in my gut when he ceased fire but it dropped as soon as he took more shots, only having moved his position a little deeper into the tree line. I glanced back toward Hershel frantically, watching as he ducked further into the high grass while Rick and I both tried to cover him with counter fire. Something moved off to the right and I finally picked up on the pickup truck across the field, two figures standing at each door while they shot up the place.

"HOLLY!"

"I'm _HERE_ Chase!" I screamed back, no longer able to hold out.

Rick glared. I ignored him.

The gunfire stopped abruptly and I crouched down with him in the bank of the creek, my eyes darting around repeatedly as the silence echoed around the open air. It was booming in its own way, replacing the sharp reports of gunfire with pulsing emptiness that still took up all the space available. All I could hear was the silence and the heavy pants of oxygen making both Rick and I's chests rise and fall chaotically.

"_Beth_!"

I heard Maggie's shout quickly followed by more gunfire and I literally growled, anger fueling my system once more that these people had the nerve to shoot at my best friend when they'd already done so much harm to her as it was. I twisted onto my stomach, pressing my eye to the scope as I searched for the other shooter closer to the prison. Maggie and I seemed to find him at the same time as we both hit him from two completely different directions, the back and the front. He was quick to move though, making me miss more than once.

"Aim for the woods!" Rick hissed, sitting up. "Now!"

Instantly doing as he said, I swung around and pulled the trigger, just catching the bastard backing away into the trees again as we both focused our bullets on him. We traded fire back and forth before Rick pushed me back down again, hushing my angered protests.

"_Listen_!"

I shut up, frowning when what sounded like the rumbling of an engine tickled my ears. Again I felt a surge of hope, my face lighting up at the thought of Daryl returning to us just in time to help us. But it was the complete opposite. Instead, a delivery truck crashed through our gates and I snarled in frustration, remembering the hard work it had taken to secure them in the first place.

"What the _hell_ are they doing!" I hissed to him, glancing back at Rick as we stared down the truck.

It sat idling in the field and my eyes cut worriedly to Hershel who was still trapped within the high grasses before a loud bang sounded from around the back of the truck, a ramp slamming down into the earth.

And then the dead poured forth.

"Oh God." I murmured, shaking my head. "Oh please God _no_."

All that I kept thinking as I looked on was that _this_ was our punishment. Just as Daryl had yelled the first time walkers attacked us in the quarry, we had this coming. Rick had once more wronged the Dixon and here we were yet again, fighting for our lives against the dead (_and_ living) who walked right into our home.

"_Move_!" Rick shouted, jumping up. "We have to move Holly, NOW!"

He shook me from my transfixed position, pulling me up with him and behind him as he ran. At first I tried to pick off walkers around Hershel in the field but I soon had to turn away and use the bullets on the herd that was descending upon us quickly instead, drawn in by the gunfire and screams. I let him lead me, trusting him to guide me as I concentrated on taking out walker after walker, ignoring the squeal of tires as our assailants sped away. I laid them down repeatedly, one after the other, but soon my magazine was registering empty and the creatures just kept coming.

"I'm out!" I yelled, glancing back ahead of me.

Rick fumbled on his feet, backpedaling quickly as walkers cut us off from the front. His gun hung uselessly from his hand, empty as well. I frantically looked around for an escape or way back to the hole in the gates but the geeks were closing in on us from all sides, leaving Rick to pushing me behind him protectively as he pressed me into the fence.

"What are you _doing_!?" I snapped, struggling behind him. "I can't help from here!"

"I'm keeping my promise!" Rick yelled back, knocking a walker's head off with the butt of his revolver.

"What are you TALKING about?" I hissed.

A walker came up on our side while Rick was busy with one at the front and I swung the heavy automatic around like a sword, slamming it into the corpse's head with an audible thunk. I was pleased to see the indention went deep enough to damage the brain, dispelling of the second life that had rejuvenated the body into its people-eating form.

"Daryl." Rick shouted back, making me freeze. "He made me _promise_-"

"To keep me safe." I finished, biting down on my lip.

But we weren't safe.

We were very much _unsafe_, and we were going to _die_.

No ammo, surrounded by walkers, and Rick had lost the ability to fight them off one by one as two closed in on him at the same time. He held them off, screaming and yelling at them with a primal snarl as he pushed me back into the fence further. I winced when I felt the chain-link cut into my back, but didn't protest, even as I felt the warmth of blood trickling down my back.

Right now Rick was fighting to keep us alive, even though it was useless.

I bit my lip, ignoring the scene in front of me as I gazed to the clear blue sky and uttered a silent prayer for Chase, Daryl, and the rest of the group just in case God was still listening. A single tear slipped out of the corner of my eye as I tightened my hand on Rick's shoulder, letting him know it was _okay_.

I forgave him.

And then I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.


	2. A Savior

**A/N:** Chapter two is now up! I hope you guys really enjoy it! Thank you for the follows and favorites, I'm really excited to see people wanting to continue reading the story! And a special thank you to my two reviewers! I hope that you each continue to follow and love the story, and thank you very very much for your amazing comments! Things like that make writing and posting even more enjoyable :)

Support for the story is greatly welcomed in all its forms, aside from story hating. Please keep that to yourself, it attracts Walkers.  
And you know Daryl's opinion on those :)

_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead, its characters, or anything else associated with the series in all its forms. I simply own my OC's and my personal additions to supplement the canon happenings. So my plot bunnies ;)**_

* * *

_**~Chapter Two~**_  
_**A Savior**_

* * *

It never came.

Even as I sucked in deep lungful's of oxygen, my eyes screwed shut as I waited for the moment when holding off the herd of walkers that surrounded us became too much for Rick to handle and the living dead sunk their teeth into our skin… _it never came_. Instead, the growling snarls that the corpses emitted at the scent of living flesh, _food_, seemed to be dying down and Rick actually let his crushing weight up off me some, freeing me. I let out a hissing breath when the new space gave me room to disentangle my back from the chain-link torture behind me, and as the rushing of blood dimmed throughout my hearing so that I could hear the world again, it was then that I picked up on a telltale whooshing sound that was all too familiar.

Arrows cutting through the air.

My eyes shot open, immediately landing on the scruffy brunette only a few yards in front of me as he loaded arrow after arrow, each a perfect mark through the brain of a walker that fell to the ground, finally dead. My feet seemed unable to move, no longer useful as I stared at the southerner who had come to save our asses, _yet again_. It hadn't even been that long without him, but my eyes drank the sight of him in as if he were the only water source in the driest desert known to man.

He was dirty, exhausted, and it looked like his shirt had been ripped somehow.

But he was _perfect_.

It wasn't until Daryl had eliminated the threat around me, the only one out of the group of us who hadn't moved since his and his brother's reappearance, that he let his eyes slowly flicker to mine. All the walkers around us were down, if Merle's manic laughter was any indication, and there was nothing left to separate us.

Except space.

"Damn sweetcheeks, ya really got yerself good." Merle's raspy voice cut into our stare down, distracting us both. "N'wonder ya had a'whole group of 'em atcha, look at all th' blood."

My eyebrows furrowed and I looked down, not missing the sound of grass brushing aside or footsteps drawing nearer, and I winced. Merle was right, I was a damn bloody mess. I lifted the soaked shirt up gingerly, exposing the graze wound from our last tango with walkers to the three men who surrounded me instantly. It had been reopened, the stitches torn and ripped away by the stray bullet that had nipped my side minutes before and now trickled blood, slowly but surely. I was so concentrated on my side as Rick murmured worriedly that I missed Daryl rounding to my back, where there was no doubt already bruising from my fall and gashes from the fence.

I did _not_ miss the angry hiss that left his lips.

Craning my neck to the side, I finally met his eyes when his fingers, rough with work and time, gently grazed over the exposed skin of my back and my knees nearly buckled with relief and desire mixed. He was here, he'd really come back and he was actually _here_.

"Chase's gon' kill ya." He grumbled, easing my shirt back down over my back.

Shit, he was right.

"Damn," I muttered, picking the fabric away from the open wound on my side. "You're right, last time was bad enough. Maybe I can get Hersh to- oh my god, _Hershel_!"

I whipped around instantly, shame and guilt rippling through my body as I looked over the inner fields quickly, desperately. My body deflated with relief when I noticed that Glenn's pickup he'd peeled out in not long before, rumbling through its idle as it sat in the middle of the grass, safety for those who had been trapped.

"Thank you Jesus." I murmured, wilting against the fence.

"Don' thank Jesus, thank _us_ sweetcheeks." Merle cackled, striding closer.

Daryl growled at him.

And I held out a single finger, my non-verbal salutations to the greasy bastard.

Sure he could make me laugh nearly hysterically on a daily basis before we'd lost him and I was more thankful he'd shown up to beat the crap out of some walker skulls than he'd _ever_ know, but I was so not in the mood for his shit. I was exhausted, sated with relief over Daryl's reappearance, cut up, bleeding, and the pain was slowly beginning to register as the adrenaline faded.

The three men chuckled.

I was helped back through the hole in the chain-link then, not that it really mattered all the much considering the bottom two gates had been blown apart, with Rick, Daryl and Merle following shortly after me. My energy was waning but I kept my mouth shut, enjoying the warmth that seeped from Daryl's skin to mine as we walked slowly and carefully back toward the entrance to the prison. His arm brushed mine constantly, his tan skin glistening with sweat and smudged with dirt contrasted against the lightness of mine, and I could just see the tip of a scar peeking out from the edge of his vest.

"_What the hell happened to his shirt?"_ I mused, but averted my eyes to the front when I noticed his head turning toward me.

We were touching; I wasn't going to push my luck with nosey questions.

Merle and Rick took out the few walkers who littered the gate opening, standing in our way between us and the bed of the Dodge where Glenn had backed up, waiting. They were the first to vault themselves up over the tailgate and as I grasped the heated metal, warm hands clasped my hips carefully, easily hoisting me up and over it before Daryl followed suit.

I, of course, nearly fainted.

He'd _far_ surpassed his quota for the day of initiated touching.

Glenn revved the engine and took off up the rocky hill, leaving Rick (who had borrowed my rifle to wield as a bat) and Merle (who had apparently fashioned his own strange sword in place of the hand he'd sawed off) to lob the head off of walkers who came too near. Soon Maggie and Chase were wrenching the inner gate back, making way for us to pull into the cement safety of the courtyard, and I was being eased down from the truck. Right into Daryl's waiting arms. He gripped my side and hip again, taking care not to grasp the newly opened wound in the process, as he guided me down from the height to settle my feet on the concrete below. The front of his chest brushed with mine and despite my pain and our surroundings, I bit back a soft moan.

Judge all you want; he'd been gone and I was _ecstatic_ he was back.

Though I was a tad bit angry he hadn't come to get me before gallivanting off into the woods…just a smidgen.

It was then that things got a little dicey. Not that it's all that surprising.

Chase was on me in seconds after being lowered to the ground and steadied on my feet, grasping me tightly as he pulled me to his broad chest and murmured random words in my ear, easing the fear inside him that I'd been killed or bitten. His arm dipped too low though, and banded across my fresh wound, provoking me to cry out and twist to the side at the same time. Daryl's eyes had been riveted to the entire scene, watching me, and as the sun dispelled of the shadows falling across my face when I turned, his eyes connected with the bruising over the right side of my face.

And he saw red.

Daryl took two steps forward instantaneously, knocking Chase to the side accidentally in his haste, and his rough palms cradled my head softly in them as he turned my face to the side, letting his eyes roam over the large bruise left in the wake of Glenn's backhand. He traced his fingers over it surprisingly gently for such a gruff man, and his lip curled back in a silent snarl as his cobalt blues met my hazel greens.

"It's okay Dare, I'm okay." I murmured, trying to soothe him as best I could.

Oh, Glenn was _so_ dead.

"..._what_ is this?" He growled, his tone deep and gravelly as it sent shivers down my spine.

He knew exactly what it was. This wasn't the first time he'd seen the result of a man's hand connecting with a woman's face, he'd watched it as he'd grown up, even been a victim to it himself. His voice held so much venom and anger that it left even _me_ a little intimidated, and the entire group had gone deathly silent around us as Merle eyed everyone over his little brother's shoulder, no doubt ready to aid him.

"Who did it." Daryl snarled, his lip curling back and eyes aflame, nearly melting mine.

I opened my mouth. Shut it.

And murmuring broke out amongst the group behind us.

"Didn' ask how it happened, I asked _WHO_. DID. IT." Daryl roared, prompting the women, aside from me, to step back a few feet.

"Daryl-" Rick tried, stepping forward.

"YOU!" Daryl growled, pulling me in toward him as he spun around to face the ex-deputy. "You gave me yer _word_, ya said ya wouldn' let anything happen ta her!"

I pressed a hand to the center of his chest in an attempt to calm him, ignoring the sting and pull in my side as I did so. He was volatile at this point, on edge and ready to rip someone apart after being forced to choose between the group and his own flesh and blood, only to come back and save us once more and then promptly find me all bruised and banged up. Again. His chest rose and fell rapidly under my palm, straining against it as the tension rippled through his muscles and he yearned to stride forward.

"Let's all just calm down," Rick murmured, pressing his hands in a downward motion with his palms out. "Let's just get inside and…and figure out what we need to do from-"

Daryl gave a quick shake of his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Yer gonna tell me who the _fuck_ hit 'er. An' then _I'm_ gonna beat th' shit outta whoever thought it was alrigh' ta hit a woman."

"Dare-" I murmured, drawing in a sharp breath at the catch in my side.

And Glenn finally snapped.

"SHE WAS ACTING CRAZY!" He shouted, throwing his arms up in the air before gripping his hair while Chase groaned and I squeezed my eyes shut.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Daryl let out a menacing growl, his attentions shifted from my pained face to Glenn's frantic one, obviously cracking under the pressure.

"Screaming and yelling and…and charging at Rick! She was hitting anyone who came near her, ripped her damn stitches back open along with Chase's arm! And she just…she just wouldn't stop _SCREAMING_! At Rick, at all of us, and we'd just left you behind…and I just…I just _lost_ it!"

Glenn's shouted confession finally came to a stuttering end, leaving him breathless as he gasped for air and his hands shook profusely. The group stood back warily; Rick with one hand on his hip and another on his forehead, Chase was eyeing both Daryl and Glenn with his lips set in a grim line, obviously caught between wanting to beat Glenn's ass just as Daryl did and not wanting a new fight to break out among our unstable camp. Daryl simply watched his prey, his eyes so narrowed that I could no longer see the blue of them as I pressed my hand firmly into his chest.

Why?

_Why_ did Glenn have to open his _big freaking mouth_?

I'd even managed to avoid looking at him the entire time, just so he wouldn't crack!

An angry, guttural sound escaped Daryl and it rumbled through his chest, sending vibrations through my palm and down my arm in thrilling tingles.

"…'M gonna _kill_ him."

I let out a sharp gasp and gripped onto the front of his shredded shirt, grasping the vest tightly to keep him from lunging forward. Chase and Rick moved quickly then, positioning themselves in front of us as panicked murmurs escaped my lips in an attempt to calm Daryl down enough, despite Merle's urgings to _'stand up for yer girl an' kick the chink's ass'_ to which I snarled at the older Dixon for provoking Glenn's renewed anger. demanding that he shut the _hell_ up.

At this rate, we'd all kill each other.

Walkers and psycho camp leaders be damned.

"ALRIGHT! That's ENOUGH!"

Hershel's authoritative voice bellowed out above the yells and scuffles, silencing most of us with the fatherly tone that struck a chord in us all. Everyone's eyes turned to him slowly where he stood, leaning heavily on his crutches as he scrutinized us with a disappointed expression.

"That's _enough_." He repeated firmly, swinging forward. "We've just been _attacked_, we need a plan. We do not need to be fighting amongst ourselves. Now, I see Holly needs some medical assistance already. Daryl, I see you've got some cuts that need disinfecting. Rick, you need shade and fluids; and we could _all_ use a moment of silence. Follow me."

And with that, the older veterinarian turned his back on us, leaving quickly for the cell block door.

* * *

About an hour later after assuring Chase that I was fine, no _really_, truly _fine_, and having Maggie fold me into a tight hug where she apologized for everything from leaving Daryl out in the woods to borrowing my hair tie and not returning it, I lounged on my back in Hershel's cell that we'd revamped into a makeshift clinic. The silence was unbelievably peaceful as he bent over my side, slowly and expertly cleaning the reopened wound before numbing it while Daryl leaned against the heavy cement wall, watching his every move. It was only when Hershel moved to replace the stitches that my hand shot out and I cleared my throat, using my voice once again.

"Are those _really_ necessary?" I whined, pouting up at him as he bit back a smile. "They're just a pain in the ass Hersh and I want to be able to…move freely."

I had trailed off when my eyes flitted to Daryl's, getting lost in the cobalt blue until I realized Hershel was gazing between us and I broke the gaze hurriedly, my cheeks tinting pink ever so slightly.

Hershel tutted under his breath, eyeing my side shrewdly.

"We can try just bandaging it, _try_ Holly, I'm not promising anything. If you start bleeding too much again, you'd best get back in here immediately."

There was an underlying threat in his voice that had me nodding vigorously, my eyes wide and innocent. Daryl let out a quiet snort and I shot him a glare before averting my eyes once more when his gaze held mine, pinning me down on the bed with only his eyes. Heat bloomed across my neck and cheeks once more, tinting my skin a rosy pink as I closed my eyes to hide from those piercing blues, relaxing into the mattress while Hershel meticulously bandaged up my side.

It seemed like they'd only been closed for a few minutes, half an hour at the most.

But when I opened them again, there was nothing but darkness.

My body was stiff, the muscles frozen in place from not moving for what I was slowly realizing was at least four hours, and a groan left my lips as I stretched them carefully. It was then that I noticed the heat at my back where it should have been the coolness of the concrete and my entire body stiffened, worrying but irrational scenarios flashing through my mind at lightening speeds. They were laid to rest almost as quickly as they came when a familiar, rumbling voice murmured lowly in my ear, strands of hair tickling my cheeks softly.

"S'me Holly."

My breath left me in a rapid gust of air, puffing my cheeks out while I relaxed my stiffened body back into the mattress once more. I suddenly became very aware of the fact that Daryl was lying on the mattress _with_ me, my bandaged side elevated just a bit to rest against his side and up off the soft surface. It wasn't like we hadn't lain close to each other before, we had, but it was usually when space was tight, while we were on the run after leaving the farm and it was too cold _not_ to be near each other, situations where it was necessary.

This was _willingly_ laying within the same space, our bodies pressed together on the small mattress.

I blinked rapidly to give myself time to think.

And let my eyes adjust to the darkness.

"Doc had me move ya t' yer cell, an' told me t' keep ya off the side." He muttered gruffly, answering my unasked question before I could even form the words to ask it.

Before palming my injured side, running his fingers over the bandage and gauze gently.

My breathing hitched. My heart pounded in my chest a little faster. My eyes snapped to his only to find him gazing down at the exposed flesh, his eyes roaming over the stark whiteness that stood out over my cream colored skin that held a slight tan, left bared after ripping the bloody shirt off so Hershel could work on me.

"Got yerself hurt, _again_." Daryl growled, obviously disapproving. "This one 'ere, the ones on yer back. Cain't even leave ya alone fer two damn minutes."

I snorted, biting back the reply that almost pushed its way off my tongue, _'Then why did you?'_. I didn't have to ask him, I knew exactly why he'd done what he did and I respected him for it. Sure, it killed to be left behind considering all we'd been through, but if the roles had been reversed and I hadn't been allowed back to the camp to get him…I couldn't say that I wouldn't do the same thing.

Of course, _he_ wouldn't have let himself get dosed with sedatives and miss his opening to come find _me_.

"How do the cuts look on my back?" I asked instead, watching as his eyes flew up to meet mine. "I fell pretty hard on that rifle, and I know that fence got me."

Daryl's eyes searched mine for a moment, flitting back and forth between them as a handful of emotions flashed across his irises in a too quick succession for me to follow.

"Bruised up pretty bad," He murmured, his hand stilling as it rested on my side. "Only a few nicks though, not too deep neither. Should be jus' fine after I cleaned 'em."

_WHAT?_

"Y-You cleaned them?" I breathed, my eyes widened.

He made a slight humming noise deep in his throat, a non-verbal affirmative that left a new bout of shivers to course down my spine pleasantly, nearly making me shudder.

"Cold?"

I shook my head, refusing to meet his eyes.

No, I wasn't even a _slight_ bit cold.

I was hot, _burning_ hot, and finding it harder and harder not to lean into him a little more so I could run a hand down his hard chest, stroke my fingers through the messy locks of hair that got in his eyes and tickled my skin, and press my lips to his like I'd been wanting to for _so_ long. He shifted a little, rearranging himself so that my side was angled more firmly on his chest while my head rolled closer to his shoulder, making me realize that it had been balanced on his arm and not, in fact, a pillow like I had assumed.

So sue me, I was exhausted and my nerves were fried.

"I'm so glad you're alright." I murmured, breaking the lengthy silence that had settled comfortably around us.

He snorted, arching a single eyebrow as he angled his head down to look at me. "Ya think I wouldn' be?"

"I _knew_ you would be," I sighed, rolling my eyes and ignoring the second snort of amusement that came from him. "Doesn't mean that I can't be grateful that you _are_ Dare."

He remained still and we lapsed back into silence again, the only sound echoing off the cement walls were the quiet sounds of our breathing, slow and deep as we both got lost in our own thoughts.

The weight that had settled on my chest before I watched him drive away on the rescue mission came back full force, only _this_ time it was even heavier. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so many things I wanted to say. That he didn't need to feel the guilt I knew was coursing through his system, that it was alright to choose his brother over us after all that had happened. It _wasn't_ his fault that we'd been attacked or that we'd lost a member in it. Shit, if it hadn't been for _him_, Rick and I would be walker bait, either dying a second death or ripped to shreds and ingested by the living corpses that now roamed the earth. I wanted to tell him how I was going to come to him, find him, and _never_ leave his side regardless of the consequences that might come as a result for such a decision. I wanted to tell him that I'd started falling for him when he demanded my release from the men that had taken me from him in Atlanta in exchange for Rick's guns.

I wanted to tell him that I _loved_ him.

That I'd known it from the moment I thought Andrea had shot him.

When I'd realized I _couldn't_ be stuck in this world without him. His gruff exterior and nobly loyal interior.

Instead I sighed, curling my body into his a bit more as I settled my head in the dip provided by the meeting of his shoulder and collarbone, ignoring how he tensed up a bit before relaxing again and allowing the arm that was under my head to bend, his fingers finding themselves buried within my long locks. My right arm settled on his chest and I held it still, not daring to trace patterns or explore the bare skin of him that was available through the now open buttons of his shirt. I _wasn't_ going to push him, no matter how badly I wanted to.

"I'm happy you're back." I whispered, even though it didn't even scratch the surface of what I felt, what I _wanted_ to say.

He was silent for a moment, preoccupied with slowly running his fingers through my hair.

"Good." He finally uttered, his voice huskier than before, heavy with lurking emotions. "Cause 'm not leavin' again."

And that, was that.


End file.
